


Marginalia (Our Youth is Still in Motion)

by virtuosol



Category: LOONA (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Childhood Friends, Comedy, Everyone grows here, F/F, Family Feels, I'M VERY EXCITED ABOUT THIS, Jinsol is overprotective mother, Jungeun is loser, Light Angst, Side chuuves and 2jin but they'll have their time!!!, Wanna call it a drama but it isn't, Yerim is baby, slow burn lipsoul, slowburn everything actually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:14:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22906066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virtuosol/pseuds/virtuosol
Summary: No-name author Jungeun Kim returns home as courtesy after the passing of her father, hoping to bury the past with him. Things don’t go quite according to plan, as she learns that receiving her special inheritance is tied to one condition: that she returns as head of the same household she abandoned seven years ago.Accepting the terms with plans to move in that same week, she's more than surprised to find company in the three girls living there already. The residents in question are Jinsol and her daughter Yerim, along with Jungeun’s precocious little cousin—Yeojin; and with every day they spend together, there's just that much more for them to learn about themselves. Or perhaps who they want to be.
Relationships: Ha Sooyoung | Yves/Kim Jiwoo | Chuu, Jeon Heejin/Kim Hyunjin, Jung Jinsol | Jinsoul/Kim Jungeun | Kim Lip
Comments: 16
Kudos: 117





	1. Welcome Home

**Author's Note:**

>   
> Marginalia  
> mar·gi·na·lia | \ ˌmär-jə-ˈnā-lē-ə  
> 1 : Marks made in the margins of a book or other document. They may be scribbles, comments, glosses (annotations), critiques, doodles, or illuminations. 
> 
> Life is richest when you look between the lines.

“Cut the crap, Lam! This can’t be everything he left us.”

Jungeun’s ears perked as they picked up on the ruckus being made just behind the black cherry doors leading into her father’s office—or former office, as this meeting would make clear. His funeral service ended mere hours ago, leaving just the will and testament to be read at the estate. Although Jungeun wanted to make her presence scant after the ceremony, her father’s lawyer was quick enough to track her down and ask that she stay for the proceedings.

“I assure you that we are only following our late client’s wishes. If you feel that these arrangements are unfair, please discuss it amongst yourselves.” 

_Oh, they definitely will,_ Jungeun thought, sighing in relief that she wasn’t in there with the rest of them. Somehow convincing Lam that her presence in the room would've been more trouble than having to find her again, Jungeun secured a seat right outside the study and waited for everything to blow over between her relatives. It wasn’t her style to stick around whenever the family got together, let alone engage in their affairs. Aside from being estranged by the main branch for years, their penchant for fighting over the smallest things always left her wanting something more… normal than what they had to offer. That reason alone afforded her solitude, and she wouldn’t have had it any other way. 

She leaned back into the chair to take another drag from the cigarette hanging lazily between her fingers, holding in the smoke for a little longer than usual before blowing it out through the corners of pursed lips. Seeing the wisps break apart into nothing reminded her of a time when she absolutely loathed the smell, and maybe she still did. Most memories of her father included the scent of stale ash—the stench seeped into everything from his clothes to his study, and even the porch if he spent enough time ruminating on the steps. It was everywhere and nowhere all at once, upsettingly permanent for something that only existed between breaths. But those were just memories. 

While the smell wasn’t quite gone, it was fainter than she remembered. Why? She couldn’t have known. Maybe he quit after she left. Maybe her senses were just dulled after years of the same abuse. Regardless, it had been a while since she stepped foot in the estate, and even longer since she bothered keeping up with what her father was doing. As clueless as she was about everything else, there was no denying that something changed during the last seven years, and it made the old home infinitely more welcoming than it ever was in the past.

Jungeun’s eyes wandered over the ever-familiar hallway without any real purpose, but instinct guided her gaze towards the stairwell—where she was met by a pair of curious eyes attached to a little girl peeking from behind the banister. Judging from body language alone, it was clear that Jungeun scared the shit out of her. The kid’s fingers were wrapped around the wood almost tight enough to warp it, and Jungeun might have laughed if she felt even a little less guilty about her resting bitch face antagonizing a child without knowing it. Jungeun ashed the cigarette against the sole of her boot and gave a small wave to the distant onlooker. After a few rounds of making some unashamedly silly faces at each other, the kid dropped her guard enough to come over at Jungeun’s beckoning, shuffling all along the way. 

_Cute,_ Jungeun thought, wondering how different things could’ve been with a younger sibling or two.

“What’s your name, sweetie?” Jungeun asked once the girl was standing in front of her.

The young one grinned wide before answering, “Yerim.”

“Yerim, huh. Very cute.” Jungeun smiled back. “What are you doing up here all alone?”

“I wanna play in Uncle’s office!”

The 25-year-old cocked an eyebrow. _Uncle?_ She might’ve been out of the family loop for a while, but there was no way a kid this young could’ve been born without her knowing. she pointed towards the study. “In there?” she asked, to which Yerim nodded, failing to pick up on her new friend’s confusion. Jungeun had plenty of questions, but she wouldn’t be able to ask any of them before the doors opened to reveal a pack of disappointed relatives. Her outstretched hand reeled back into a cover for her face, as she tried to avoid attention from anyone making their exit. Yerim’s worried hands shook at her thigh. “What’s wrong, Auntie?” she said, but Jungeun had a hard time hearing her over the crowd’s riled chatter. She brought the girl closer for a hug in place of a verbal response.

They stayed huddled for a while, waiting for the stragglers to leave before daring to move. The commotion died soon enough with no one else to voice their complaints at the lawyer, and Jungeun finally let her hand fall back to her side. Yerim also freed herself from the hug, still unsure about what was happening. Somewhat afraid of losing any more of her dignity in front of a child, Jungeun bounced back into her usual stoic persona. “Alright,” she said, getting up from her chair. “How about we go inside?”

Any confusion Yerim might’ve had was overwritten by the excitement of getting her alleged playroom back. She ran into the study before Jungeun as if it was the most natural thing, taking up a spot near the far wall lined with books, though it seemed that the last couple of shelves closer to the ground were dedicated to childrens’ stories. Everything else lined up with Jungeun’s memories just fine as she scanned the rest of the room. Did those books belong to Yerim?

Lam was seated on one of the leather singles surrounding her father’s old coffee table, engrossed enough by one of the many documents sprawled across its smooth surface that Yerim running through didn’t even phase him. It wasn’t until Jungeun took the seat across from him that he noticed another person had entered the room. “Ah, Miss Jungeun,” the lawyer greeted her with a small nod, his tired eyes betraying him. “Thank you for joining me.”

“Let me preface this with an apology. I didn't mean to make you wait outside for so long, but your family was very… concerned with the matter of inheritance; thus, the need for some clarification on my end…”

Jungeun smiled through the formalities, hoping it would help her get through the meeting faster. What was there to discuss, anyway? She cut ties with the old man more than half a decade ago, so of course she’d be left with dust. At least, that’s what she believed until Lam pulled a thin folder from his bag, separate from what Jungeun assumed was her father’s complete will that already sat on the table. Jungeun sat up and leaned forward more out of intrigue than anything, as money didn’t mean much to her after all this time. 

“And so,” Lam said, “this folder is—”

A light thump resounded throughout the room, catching the adults’ attention and bringing it over to Yerim’s corner. Lam hadn’t realized there was a child accompanying them until now and went white at the shock, sputtering through what was supposed to be telling Yerim to leave. Still more interested in the will than in kicking a harmless child out, Jungeun clapped her hands to get his attention. “It’s fine,” she said, “let’s get this over with.” Lam took a moment to regain his composure and cleared his throat before continuing again.

“Right then,” he said. “The document in this folder was reserved specifically for you to hear; as such, everything I say henceforth will be in your father’s words.” _Father's words indeed_ , Jungeun sighed inwardly, his unmistakable gravitas echoing through Lam's dry voice.

She sat through the dull and uninspired speech, blinking hard every time Lam read something she already knew about her family history. Jungeun got more annoyed the closer he got towards the document’s end, as it only confirmed her suspicions that the meeting was just a farce. There was nothing for her here. There never had been. While there wasn’t any talk of inheritance, some part of her was relieved that it also failed to mention her decision to leave. Maybe the old man learned to accept it in the end.

Lam stopped to take a deep breath, giving Jungeun the impression that everything had been read. She shifted from her seat to stand, irked that she sat through a speech that, while well-earned for her despondency, didn’t _have_ to be delivered as the final memory she’d have of him. The lawyer then spoke again just as she lifted herself up, much to her surprise.

“And so, I leave my estate and everything behind its grand doors to you, my incorrigible daughter.”

It took a moment for the news to sink in. The meeting with her relatives went on for so long that she didn’t expect much to be left, but it made sense that her father didn’t have a shortage of things to give out. The lawyer wore somewhat of a fond smile now, reading her surprise with ease. They sat in silence as Jungeun collected her thoughts. She wasn’t sure how many minutes had passed before a response came to her.

“There’s no way I can accept this,” she said, despite it being a complete lie. “I already have a life outside of this house.”

Her job was flexible enough that she could be transferred and work from almost anywhere, and the studio she rented was marked for renovation not too long ago. She just wanted to offer some resistance to the idea to avoid looking too eager. Not that anyone actually cared, dead father included.

“That’s perfectly fine. He mentioned that might be the case. As such, he also said that, on the condition that you do _not_ assume ownership of the estate, the rest of your inheritance will also be forfeit.”

“The rest?”

The question earned her a coy look from the lawyer as if she just fell into a trap. “Your mother’s personal belongings. Everything that was left after she passed.”

Mother’s possessions. Really. He would hold that over her head? Jungeun clicked her tongue, unsurprised. There was a chance for it to be a bluff, but she didn’t want to take that risk.

“And if I still refuse?”

“He said we should,” he stopped to read the exact words off. “ _‘Burn it all if the brat doesn’t listen.’”_

Jungeun’s nostrils flared at the response. _Trying your hardest to win even when you’re dead, huh?_ She tried to keep her cool by crossing her arms and sitting back, though they both knew what the answer was going to be. Lam passed the page he was holding over to Jungeun, the bottom of which sported a thin line waiting for her signature. “Read over it if you’d like. I’ll get you a pen,” he said, rising from his seat. Jungeun stayed silent as she also got up, eyes locked on where her signature would be going.

She walked through the office without much on her mind, the thing bringing her back being the small tug she felt at her pants. She looked down to see Yerim standing beside her with a copy of _Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone_ in hand. Jungeun recognized the bookmark wedged between the pages immediately. It was one she made for her father almost two decades ago. While she didn’t know how old Yerim was, she didn’t seem old enough to be reading the novel on her own. Was he helping her through it? Just who was this kid?

Lam assumed that he’d given Jungeun enough time to mull over the decision to sign. He held out the pen, excited at the prospect of finishing his business with the Kim family. He attempted to hand it to Jungeun, but was interrupted once again by a concerned voice calling for their young guest. 

“Yerim!” the woman said, shocking Jungeun with the amount of authority she walked with in this house. “I told you to stay in the garden!” 

“But I got bored...”

“That’s not an excuse. I asked you to stay there until I got back.”

While Jungeun would’ve wanted nothing more than to come to the kid’s aid, she was more taken by the woman who had barged in. Yet another reminder of the past stood in front of her now, albeit taller and meaner looking.

“Jinsol?”

“Hey,” Jinsol replied curtly to her former childhood friend, sparing just a second of eye contact, “Yerim, we have to get going.”

“I wanna stay with Auntie Jungie,” Yerim said while clinging to Jungeun’s leg, “this is her house now.”

“Of course it is, but Mommy needs your help right now, honey.” 

Jinsol dropped to her daughter’s height, hugging her knees for stability as she tried to convince the kid to go with her. It was a bit odd for Jungeun to see Jinsol as a mother after all this time, but there was something heartwarming about how natural the interaction was. It showed just how much could change after seven years, even if Jungeun felt like she hadn’t gotten anywhere in that time. 

“You should listen to your mom, kiddo,” Jungeun said as she ushered Yerim forward with a gentle hand at her back. “You can visit any time when I come back.”

Yerim protested by digging her heels into the ground, hoping her mother would give up after such a brazen display. Unfortunately, Jinsol was tired of waiting and decided to pick her up instead. Pouty but quiet in her mother’s arms, she waved bye as Jinsol thanked Jungeun and left the study. Jungeun watched as her friend walked down the same stairs where she first spotted Yerim, thinking it’d be nice to catch up if given the chance. Wanting to get it all over with, Jungeun turned to the lawyer and took the pen from his hand, signing it without any doubts. It shouldn’t have been this easy, but what else could she do? Maybe a big change is what she needed.

“Great! Your father set aside some funds to assist with your move. He didn’t specify how it should be spent, so that is up to your discretion. The bank statement is included in this folder.” Lam placed the folder on Jungeun’s new desk and grabbed his bag in a hurry. “Let me know if you have any questions!” He was out of the office before the last word even left his mouth. Appropriate, for how much pain the family must’ve given him earlier. 

Jungeun wasn’t sure what to do after that. She just became the owner of an estate at the tender age of 25. While it should’ve been cause for celebration, there was too much tied to it all. The fact that her father was gone still hadn’t hit her—or maybe it did and she just didn’t care—was worrying to say the least, and she was more scared of the latter than she would’ve liked to admit. Taking a seat on top of the desk, she picked up the folder to see just how much he left for moving efforts. Unsure of what to expect from the old man, she found the bank statement after sifting through a few pages filled with legal jargon, letting her eyes drift towards the magic numbers.

...

...

 _Way too many zeroes,_ she thought, somewhat irritated at how disconnected her father was from the rest of the world. Still, there wasn't any in complaining about extra money. She closed the folder, tired of all this serious business. Jungeun reached for the Zippo and pack of Newports sitting in her coat pocket and lit a stick before tossing the rest on her desk. A sigh escaped as she lifted it to her lips for the first drag. 

“Long live the king.” 

***

“You’re back home?!” Jiwoo screamed into the phone. “I mean, is that okay? What about your editing thing?

“They said it’s fine. A new office over here was already in the works, I’ll just be doing stuff from home until it gets set up.” 

“So that means you have time to visit me? Hehe.” 

“Hmm, I don’t know,” Jungeun played with the idea a bit, earning a few squeals of disapproval from her best friend. She made sure to maximize the fun she had with Jiwoo before being threatened with a dropkick if she didn’t follow up on her promises. The call ended with plans for visits and lunch dates, leaving her to prepare for the moving company’s arrival.

Jungeun stood up from the curb after checking her texts one last time to make sure she didn’t miss anything from the movers. Flicking her latest stub into the nearest bush, she took her first step through the estate gate as its new owner while absent-mindedly fiddling with the old house key in her pocket. The front door she was already so well-acquainted with stood strong and tall as the porch steps creaked under her weight—a testament to their age, and another reminder that she wasn’t entering a new home.

Unlocking doors was simple, but her hands were guided by memory more than anything. It was as if she only just came back home after taking the long road from school. Silence followed after she took her first steps through the entrance, mimicking the past even further once the door had shut. Another sigh left Jungeun’s lips once her coat was off. It was something like second nature to her at this point, albeit annoying. There wasn’t much to do considering that the house was already furnished, save for whatever her father gave to the relatives. Opting to just take it easy until the movers came with her stuff, she hung her coat and made her way towards the living room to rest. 

Jungeun felt confident enough in her knowledge of the home layout to walk around while playing a puzzle game on her phone, paying less attention to her surroundings than she should have. The decision soon backfired as she bumped into something—or more accurately, _someone_ —as she trudged towards her destination. 

The 25-year-old couldn’t help but scream as she fell flat on her ass, almost taking out one of her father’s precious paintings in the process. Shocked that something was in her way to begin with, Jungeun’s eyes widened once she saw what caused her fall.

“Yerim?!” she yelled louder than intended, realizing her mistake all too late.

The girl’s lip quivered as tears threatened to pour from her eyes, and from there it evolved into full-on bawling. _Fuck_ , Jungeun thought, letting her body go into autopilot as she crawled towards the girl and held her tight. Any other feelings she might’ve had about the whole situation disappeared along with the calm atmosphere. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell,” she assured while rhythmically switching between giving the girl back massages and head pats.

The sound of shuffling from upstairs added more to the chaos. _No. It couldn’t be._

“What happened?!” Jinsol rounded the corner with her hair half-done, worried as hell that her daughter might’ve gotten into something serious. Her jaw dropped at the sight of Jungeun holding the crying child.

“Jinsol, wh—”

“Give her to me.”

“But—” 

“ _Give._ ”

Jungeun released the kid as commanded while Jinsol rushed in to pick her up. Knowing just how to soothe Yerim, Jinsol had the child in light sniffles not even minutes after coming to her aid. 

“It’s okay, sweetie,” she whispered while kicking the grounded woman's leg with her foot. “Your Auntie didn’t mean to yell.”

“I already told her that,” Jungeun mumbled and received a glare in response. What the hell? Wasn’t she the real victim here?

“Are you okay?”

“Ye—” 

“Not you. This one,” Jinsol said, tickling Yerim’s neck with a light brush of her nose. 

Yerim giggled and nodded through it all, letting Jinsol know that the worst has passed. The mother turned her child every which direction before setting her down in front of Jungeun, comforted by the fact that there wasn’t so much as a scratch on her.

“Alright, then I need to finish getting ready. Will you tell Jungeun you’re sorry for running into her while I’m gone?”

Another nod. “That’s my girl.”

One cheek pinch later and Jinsol was gone, leaving Jungeun with a very apologetic-looking kid trying her best to avoid eye contact. After a few minutes of watching Yerim play with her thumbs, Jungeun thought she’d spare the kid her punishment.

“It’s okay. I’m not mad.” 

“Really?” The girl looked up from the ground for the first time in a while.

“Really.” Jungeun willed a smile through her exhaustion and patted the ground for Yerim to sit, wrapping an arm around her once she got close enough. 

Questions, questions, and more questions clouded Jungeun’s mind, preventing her from enjoying any respite afforded by Yerim’s silence. As much as she wanted to sort through her thoughts, her time with them was cut short by the buzzing of an incoming call. Her breath hitched at the sensation, having forgotten that she was holding it in the first place. She answered the phone with a flick of her finger.

“Hey, hey, we’ll be pulling up soon!” A jolly voice blared from the speakers. “Are you ready to move in?”

“Yeah,” she said, taking a deep breath to calm herself. 

_Ready as I’ll ever be._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! So yeah this isn't super dramatic or anything like that. The goal is to be lighthearted but... real(?) so to speak. Anyways, Idk how often I'll be updating but I wrote this pretty fast so it won't take too long methinks. 
> 
> Maybe leave a comment or interact on [twitter](https://twitter.com/commedesgowons)? or hmu on [cc](https://curiouscat.me/commedesgowons) hehe. Either way, see you soon!


	2. The Problem With Airpods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #LOONA1STWIN YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS DROP THE D WORD  
> IN OTHER NEWS, i'm alive!! well, just barely. i had a lot of research and writing to do for school so that's why it took so long. plus, editing is always a pain  
> anyways please enjoy

The cup of tea sitting on Jungeun's desk went cold before she got a chance to finish it, but she didn't mind. Having spent the last three nights on her manuscript, she was just glad to have made any progress at all, regardless of everything it took to get there. She’d gotten so caught up in editing projects for the magazine that it was hard to find time for her own novel—and it was only thanks to Haseul's courtesy call that she remembered their drafting deadline was fast approaching. Jungeun took her hands off the keyboard to readjust her glasses, only to get distracted by the rays of sunshine spilling onto the ground wherever the window curtain didn’t obstruct them. It was morning already. Letting her limbs relax at the sight, the feeling of fatigue she'd been ignoring started to set in all at once, gently guiding her as she deflated on the swivel chair she brought in to replace her father's leather throne. It wasn’t the comfiest alternative, but it served her better than the artifact left behind would have. Still, her body was calling for actual rest, and there was no way she could fall asleep like this.

Jungeun picked up her cellphone as she left the chair, swiping through her notifications with an unmatched lack of enthusiasm while she walked towards the door. She couldn't say she disliked working from home, but the amount of messages currently flooding her inbox was more than irksome to look at, especially since most of her correspondence was on the simpler side. Jungeun dragged her feet to the study entrance and opened the door, stopping midway once she heard the wood suspiciously clink against something delicate on the other side. Peeking around the corner, she spotted a plate of apple slices sitting there plain as day, fresh and ownerless. Slithering through whatever small space the door afforded her, she picked the plate up, unsure of what to make of it.

_Did Jinsol leave this?_

The thought itself was ridiculous. From what she knew about Jinsol’s schedule, the woman was as busy as she was fierce. She didn't have the time to worry about someone that spent most of their time cooped up in an office, let alone someone she didn't care much for. It was a nice fantasy, though, and Jungeun couldn’t help but feel somewhat disappointed at how far removed from each other’s lives they had become. Thus, the sweet gesture could’ve only come from Yerim—a realisation that helped the creases on Jungeun’s face soften a bit. She really did like the kid, despite not knowing how to show it. That fact in itself was weird to Jungeun, considering how people, children included, more or less avoided her altogether. 

It was probably the face—no, it was definitely the face. While she didn’t try to look menacing by any means, people were often put off by the strength of her natural gaze. It was also worth mentioning that the curvature of her mouth was more modest, thus less inviting than the average person. Put simply, she had a resting bitch face which rivaled that of most fictional villains, and trying to keep an upbeat front for everyone else’s sake was more than tiring for her. Eventually, she decided that it wasn’t worth the effort and just stuck true to her casual stoicism, even if it wasn’t the best reflection of her heart.

Or was it?

Yerim’s affection was refreshing, to say the least, but that didn’t make up for the mystery she was involved in. Only one week had passed since Jungeun moved in, and she wasn’t any closer to finding out why she was sharing a house with Jinsol. Her first few days at the house were dedicated to uncovering any clues left behind by her father—a venture she soon postponed in favour of working on her manuscript. However, in the time she spent isolated, Jungeun learned to appreciate the commotion that came with a child and their mother. Maybe it was the same for her father, she thought while crunching on another slice, but reconsidered just as quick. Things wouldn’t have ended the way they did if that was the case. And just like that, any appetite she might’ve had was gone. 

Although every second she stayed awake was more painful than the last, Jungeun couldn't find it in herself to bin the rest of Yerim's gift. Limbering up for the bothersome trip downstairs, Jungeun soon descended into the hallway, her fingers grazing against its aged timber before arriving at their sleek kitchen to place the half-eaten slices in the refrigerator. There, Jungeun enjoyed a rather bright morning that was reminiscent of her days in school. Angelic rays bounced off surfaces to reveal the hidden layer of dust always floating around the house, directionless and undecided until human movement chartered them a course. Jungeun remembered looking at the very same specks seven years ago as she mulled over her decision to leave, finding nothing in them except the growing awareness of her self-made isolation—she couldn’t say that it was any different now.

The cool refrigerator air was a blessing to Jungeun, offering a welcome contrast to the stuffiness she’d subjected herself to for the sake of productivity. She relished in the feeling for a long moment, before the sound of light steps trailing overhead caught her attention. Her head turned slightly towards the source as it went further towards the stairs, then closer again in the hallway. The steps had too much weight behind them to be Yerim, and Jungeun gulped at the thought of having to face the woman that had been running circles around her mind since she moved in. Judging from the way she froze at the sight of Jungeun, Jinsol must’ve felt the same.

“Morning,” she said and pointed at the fridge, feigning nonchalance with a step forward. “Are you done?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah,” Jungeun replied and let the handle go to Jinsol, but not before grabbing the carton of milk in front of her for no reason at all. 

Jinsol looked at her incredulously, as if she had just grown another head; Jungeun didn't like milk. In fact, she never did. Jungeun inwardly berated herself for letting the woman get to her like this, but she couldn’t find a reason to just leave. She ambled around the kitchen counter to sit on one of the stools, making sure that Jinsol was in her direct line of vision before pouring herself a tall glass of the cursed drink. 

“Working today?” She asked, taking the smallest sip she could manage.

“No.”

“You’re up early, then.”

Jinsol didn’t even turn to face her as she let out a small snort. She continued pulling different containers out of the fridge to leave them on the counter, each and every one of them precise and color-coded—a far cry from what Jungeun would’ve expected from the same person seven years ago. Jungeun’s jaw clenched, and she bit at the back of her lower lip while trying to decide what to say next. Jinsol’s long black hair rested so neatly over her royal blue pajamas that it was hard to believe she just woke up. In fact, the woman moved with enough limberness for Jungeun to feel like her presence didn’t make a difference at all.

“How long are you going to pretend like nothing happened?”

The question had a different kind of bite to it. Her casual cadence suggested that she didn’t expect anything from Jungeun at all, and that she had only asked out of pure curiosity rather than self-interest. Regardless of Jinsol’s intent, Jungeun felt her throat constrict while she struggled to produce an answer, and just when she thought something worth saying was about to come out, the patter of small feet against their hardwood flooring replaced the silence that resulted from Jinsol’s verbal left hook.

“Ah! Auntie Jungie is here!” 

Yerim ran towards Jungeun’s stool and attempted to climb into her lap, failing with each attempt until the 25-year-old made it happen herself.

“Did you eat the apples?” Yerim asked, to which Jungeun nodded with a smile.

“Only some. I put the rest in the fridge.” 

“Yerim, I cut those for you,” Jinsol interjected.

“I thought auntie would be hungry... Don’t be mad, Mama...” Yerim pouted. “I know! What if you cut me _and_ auntie apples next time?

“I’m no—I’ll think about it, honey.” 

Jinsol sighed. There wasn’t any use in scolding a kid for being generous, and it wasn’t like Jungeun was asking for the favor. She went back to preparing breakfast, leaving the two girls sitting at the counter to do whatever in the meantime. Although Jungeun wanted to finish the conversation they were having before Yerim showed up, she thought better of doing so while the child sat in her lap.

Instead, Jungeun watched as Jinsol worked in diligence, far removed from her own worries for once. From what she could remember, Jinsol was one of, if not _the_ worst cook in their group, and seeing her work the kitchen now was nothing short of fascinating due to the sheer difference in confidence. Jungeun paced herself through the drink, almost regretting every sip, but also happy that her reflex decision gave her a front row seat to the old neighborhood delinquent’s magnetizing display of superior domesticity. Growth always came in the strangest ways, and it was so natural that you wouldn’t be able to find a meaningful difference without a deep dive into the past. 

Yerim was also enraptured by her mother’s mastery of the kitchen, so much that she made the uncharacteristic choice to sit still in Jungeun’s lap. The aromas mixed well with the lingering crispness of the morning, melting together in a way that reminded Jungeun her favorite meal of the day might’ve been breakfast at some point. She played with Yerim’s hair as the scene unfolded, lost in thoughtlessness that came from overworking her tired brain. Jinsol stole a quick glance at the audience, certain that something suspicious was going on because of the silence. Finding her daughter and former friend watching in awe, she turned away slightly to hide the faint smile that threatened to undo all the hard work she'd put into being frosty with Jungeun. Still, as exhausted as she was, there was a growing peace in her heart that she couldn’t deny, and it grew with each moment she spent with the two. 

Like all good things, the show came to an end when Jungeun felt a buzz in her pajama pocket. Unlocking the phone, she saw a single text message waiting for her eyes alone.

 **7:23 AM** , **Haseul:** _exciting news. call in 5 mins?_

_Fuuuck._

“Yerim, can you get off? I need to go work,” she said.

“You won’t eat breakfast with us?”

The girl hopped down without a fuss, leaving Jungeun to brush her lap before getting up to walk back to the study. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to—rather, she just didn’t expect Jinsol to have prepared anything for her to begin with. 

“Maybe next time,” she said as she patted Yerim’s head, ignoring the pout that almost had enough power to change her mind.

Jungeun should’ve gone straight to the office, but a vague feeling led her feet somewhere else. Walking in the opposite direction once she climbed the stairs, Jungeun went to the room she used to call her own and opened the door, immediately falling face-down onto the old bed as her body crumpled in comfort. The few moments of bliss were then followed by a familiar sensation in her hand, to which Jungeun responded with a lazy flick at the phone screen.

“Jungeun, you won’t belie—”

“Please make it quick.”

“Alright! One of our bestselling authors read your novel, and they’re _really_ into the idea of meeting up with you.”

“Okay.”

“You sound unimpressed, but wait till I tell you who.”

“Waiting.”

“It’s Kahei. Kahei Wong.”

“ _What!?”_ Jungeun’s eyes shot open, “but I just moved out here!”

“That’s the best part! She’s just a thirty minute train ride away from you.”

The news was almost too much to bear. Kahei’s name held a lot of weight in their world as the next breakout international author. Jungeun couldn’t even believe Haseul was in contact with someone like that this whole time, considering how goofy and casual she was. But what kind of meeting did Kahei want, and why did she take interest in her writing in particular? Trying her best to rationalize everything, she barely registered that Haseul was still talking on the other line.

“Anyways, can’t wait to see you over there.”

“You’re coming too?”

There wasn’t a problem in having the editor around, but some private time with an esteemed author would’ve been monumental for Jungeun. She had so many questions that only a master could answer, and she wanted to make the best of their meeting if at all possible. Haseul confirmed that she would be there, leading Jungeun to groan into the pillow before exchanging her thanks and byes. 

She let her eyes close once again as she rolled onto her back. This room had the worst lighting in the entire house, and she’d never been more grateful for the fact than now. It was odd, though, how the furniture she left behind was nowhere to be seen. In fact, the only thing that stayed the same was the old bed she laid on. The smell was different, the atmosphere was different, everything. At first she assumed it was refurnished for Yerim’s use, but it didn’t resemble anything like a child’s room. So yes, it was weird, but it didn’t cause any huge issues. All the furniture she’d picked up after moving out was easily situated in the guest room downstairs, anyway—and on the days Jungeun did leave the study, she opted to spend the night on the mattress she brought over out of habit. This would be her first time sleeping in the room since moving out. Seven years, and it might’ve gone through more change than she did.

Jungeun didn’t try to hold back the yawn that escaped from her mouth, nor did she bother with bringing a blanket over her body. She trusted the natural insulation of the estate to work for her instead.Now that her three day frenzy was over, she couldn’t name anything that needed to be done. While she could have resumed the search for answers regarding Jinsol, their short conversation—if Jungeun could even call it that—left her with more than enough to consider going forward. But if there was one thing Jungeun knew for sure, it was that Jinsol had a point: the history between them couldn’t be ignored, and she was a coward for thinking she could act otherwise. It was all too much for her, but she expected as much from her hometown. She took one more look at her phone with her right eye still open. The thought of setting an alarm crossed her mind before flitting away just as quick. The effort really wasn't worth it. She placed a hand on her stomach and focused on its steady rise and fall, ready to plunge into sleep’s embrace. It didn’t take long for her breaths to go shallow after that, the last bits of her fading consciousness batting away at the worries that weren’t allowed to chase her further.

***

Jungeun grunted as a considerable weight sank onto her chest, foreign as much as it was irritating. Although her eyes were sewn shut with tiredness, it didn’t stop her from pushing whatever was sitting there with a profound crankiness. Her eyebrows knitted as she strained to sit up, rubbing the discomfort from her chest all the while. She massaged her weary eyes until they were ready to find whatever dragged her out of an otherwise pleasant day of sleep, though she didn’t need to look too far in the end. Light tumbled in from the hallway, presenting itself as one of two things that were gently illuminating the room--the other being the faint glow of a phone that didn't belong to Jungeun.

A girl sat on the bedside tapping away at the device, seemingly unaware that Jungeun was there with her. Taking note of her height—or lack thereof, really—Jungeun hazarded a guess and placed her around middle school age. She spared a minute to work through the post wake-up haziness, watching in confusion as her guest continued to tap away as if all was right in the world. Looking to her side, Jungeun noticed a backpack lying on the ground near the bedframe. She almost clicked her tongue in annoyance; this must’ve been the thing that woke her up. Were kids always this oblivious, tossing things without looking? Though she didn’t take any pleasure in having to scare a child shitless, the girl didn’t leave her much choice in the matter. Jungeun cleared her throat softly in hopes that it wouldn’t be too much of an alarm, but the lack of any reaction told her that things weren’t going to end up like she wanted. 

Thinking that a more forward approach would produce better results, she reached out to tap the girl on the shoulder; however, luck just wasn’t on her side, and she missed the girl by a few centimeters because of her sudden decision to stand up. She started to disrobe not a minute later, tossing her blazer onto the bed without a care. A small gleam caught Jungeun’s attention as the layering piece fell beside her. She turned it over to find a familiar crest on the breast pocket.

_Noel Academy. She’s in high school then… Could’ve fooled me._

An interesting, but undoubtedly useless find in her current situation. _I guess third time’s the charm_.

“Hey—” Jungeun caught the sock flying at her face in mid-air.

“Hm?” The girl took an Airpod out of her ear and looked over to the disgruntled woman holding her dirty laundry. “You finally awake?”

“Uh, yeah.” _So she knew._

“Cool. Now get out.” 

Jungeun froze on the spot. She sat slack-jawed at the student’s audacity until a hand dragged her out of bed with a little more force than needed. Still trying to work through the idea of being blatantly disrespected in her own home, there was little resistance Jungeun could offer to being guided out of the room and into the hallway. Wasn’t she the owner of this estate? Why was this kid ordering her around?

The cold hardwood floor sent a small shock through Jungeun’s body, easing her back into the reality she was trying so hard to avoid. Letting out an annoyed huff, Jungeun turned around with plans to share a few choice words with the tiny aggressor, but her efforts were ultimately in vain. The student forced an overflowing laundry basket into her arms and caused her to stumble backwards in surprise, only to be re-balanced by a strong tug from the front.

“Can you put these in the wash for me? I need to do some homework, thanks.” 

Jungeun heard the door slam behind the mound of clothes covering her view. She blinked long and hard, hoping that her anger would subside with enough time away from any stimulation. Luckily enough for them both, a brief moment of clarity allowed Jungeun to set the basket down with an undeserved gentleness, though she did have to suspend the urge to thrash at the plastic container with her foot. She ran a hand through her hair, irritated that she let the runt toss her around like that on their first meeting. A sigh escaped her lips. Next time would be different for sure. 

_I need a smoke._

Massaging her scalp with both hands for comfort, Jungeun started towards the downstairs bedroom closet with beleaguered steps. If she couldn’t find a deck lying around, there would surely be one in her coat pocket. The trip would’ve been short, had she not noticed that the dining table light was still on despite how late it was. As much as she would’ve liked to pass by without a care, the frugal renter mentality she’d adopted for so long stirred her into action. 

Jungeun approached the table with brisk steps hoping to get things over with quickly, but slowed down once she spotted a dish sitting alone on the otherwise clean surface. Her mind jumped to conclusions and assumed that it was the student’s mess, adding more insult to injury; however, after reaching the table, she saw that it wasn’t a mess at all. The dish was actually wrapped well and came complete with silverware placed to the side. A sole piece of folded paper sat on top, reading _Jungeun_ in Jinsol’s handwriting. She picked it up.

_Yerim said you might’ve wanted some. Run the dishwasher when you’re done._

A goofy smile crept onto her face. 

Maybe that cigarette could wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my favorite character is here!! i wanna show her off but these introductions be slow to keep the story's pace :(  
> but yes we are moving forward with jungeun's life if only just a little bit, and you can expect more jinsol coming up next time. thanks for reading
> 
> [cc for prompts/requests/chatting](https://curiouscat.me/commedesgowons) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/commedesgowons)


	3. Morning Dew

Spring came in quick to replace the coastal winter that overstayed its welcome, signalling the long awaited start of a new chapter in everyone’s lives. The early morning draft, while still cold, no longer nipped at the noses and ears of those unprepared, making the average person’s commute that much more bearable. As someone who relied on her feet to get around, Jinsol was more than excited for the season to come into full swing. 

It must have been the morning dew peppered on the flora all along the path to work that set it off. Most of her walks during winter were spent huddled into a scarf for warmth, her gaze going just over a few feet in front of her as part of an implicit refusal to expose her neck any longer than she needed to, and it was hardly a surprise that she got sick of the same desaturated visage of her morning route during that time. 

Though lacking its previous resplendence, the greenery she took for granted was slowly making its comeback with a hopeful freshness, planting expectations for a vibrant season that she and Yerim would be able to enjoy once more. It was only a matter of time now, and she’d just have to continue working hard until then. Even so, it wasn’t really a problem for her, and it never would be when it came to her daughter. 

Jinsol let out an unreserved yawn. If she was keeping the time right, her shift wasn’t set to start for another two hours. Although she could’ve stayed in bed a bit longer, it didn’t feel right to leave all the prep work to the Hwangs, even if it was their little hole-in-the-wall restaurant. As just one of two chefs in a small, but busy kitchen, there was more than enough to do in anticipation of their usual rush now that the weather was better. 

Yet, as tired as she felt, she didn’t feel like there was anything to complain about; the Hwangs were nice enough to take her in when they did, and that alone made them worthy enough of her extra efforts and kindness. There was also the fact that Jinsol actually enjoyed waking up early, unlike most people. To her, it was somewhat reassuring how she always left the house before anyone else, as if it proved she had the most to do—or more to lose, in her case—and she wouldn’t let herself forget it. Then again, if she was being realistic, she didn’t have much of a choice in the matter.

Coming out of high school without any practical experience limited her life in ways she couldn’t have expected. All those hours spent playing around were eventually made up by sleepless nights and miserable mornings, and while she might’ve hated it at first, there was no doubt that she took some pride in making it this far without a college certificate or degree—especially when she hadn’t put any thought into her future before being blessed with Yerim. At no point in her twenty-six years of living did she think she’d end up working at a restaurant, but here she was on her feet at six in the morning, making her way to the one other place she considered home.

Jinsol rounded a corner into the shop’s back alley and reached into her purse for the restaurant keys, only to be interrupted by the creak of their rusted service entrance opening just a few meters ahead. In her unfaltering stride towards the door, she saw the silhouette of a small woman emerge from the exit; it was Mrs. Hwang, getting ready for her morning stretches.

“Good morning!” Jinsol half-shouted into the alley, catching the elderly woman’s attention.

Though blank at first, her expression quickly lit up after she realized it was her favorite not-daughter who had called. Eager to close the distance between them, Jinsol increased her pace into a light jog until she stood by her boss’s side. 

“What are you doing here so early?” Mrs. Hwang asked. 

She couldn’t remember if her husband mentioned anything about Jinsol before they left, but the girl’s arrival was a pleasant surprise nonetheless.

“I wanted to help you two prep a bit,” Jinsol felt her cheeks flush at the admission, “is that okay?”

As uncertain as she sounded, they both knew she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. If there was one thing Mrs. Hwang learned over her years of looking after Jinsol, it was that the girl was as kind as she was quiet—which was just a nicer way of saying her good deeds often came unannounced, though never unwelcome. Knowing this, the shop owner let out an endearing laugh before pulling in the younger girl for a quick hug.

“Of course it’s okay, love,” she said before loosening her grip on the younger girl, “that old dog won’t admit it, but he isn’t as fast as he used to be.”

_Love._

It was the name she’d been given on day one. And despite how long it took for her to get used to it, Jinsol wished it would never change.

“Go on, then. I’ll join you two in a second.”

The hand at Jinsol’s back nudged her towards the kitchen, where Mr. Hwang must have already been hard at work. She offered a small bow before heading in, happy that her offer wasn’t met with any resistance. Not that she expected any, really. There was a slight bounce in her step as she walked down the dimly lit hallway, no longer uncomfortable with the confined space like she used to be so long ago. Not too far from the kitchen proper, she heard the echoes of Mr. Hwang’s cleaver slamming against the counter. While there was still plenty of strength left in his swing, Jinsol could tell that age was starting to wear him down, albeit slowly. 

“Isn’t it too early to be putting in that much effort?” Jinsol half-joked as she stepped into the light, removing her purse to leave it on one of the nearby shelves.

“Isn’t it too early to be insulting the chef?” Mr. Hwang clapped back without looking up, “I don’t remember telling you to come in at 6. What’s the occasion?”

“Nothing. Just wanted to help.”

“Altruism? In this economy? Consider me blessed.”

Jinsol stifled a laugh while tying the back of her apron. She appreciated how dedicated Mr. Hwang was to keeping a lively atmosphere; it made the long shifts easier, and had a way of grounding her whenever things at home got stressful.

She shifted over to the side to check on the vats of broth that were left brewing overnight, lifting the hatch to check on its progress. The unique aroma of their signature beef bone soup filled the air, overwhelming any other scent with its richness. She skimmed the layer of fat sitting on top of the broth, tossing it to one of their waste bins before getting a spoonful for herself, flavor running free on her taste buds as she relished in the fact that Mr. Hwang was nice enough to always let her have the first test.

“Soup’s ready.”

“Good. Make some more beef marinade for now, we’re still short from last Friday.”

“Mm.”

Their kitchen was barely wide enough to fit three people, but it didn’t feel cramped at all. Jinsol pulled everything she needed for the marinade and more out of the fridge using just her muscle memory, banking on the fact that Mr. Hwang would need her to do more after finishing the sauce. It didn’t take too long for the lovely missus to join them, getting back to her pickling work while Jinsol mixed the ingredients with utmost care. Time passed for the trio rather quickly with all their focus being poured into individual crafts, a few lines of banter being shared to quell the silence every once in a while. 

Mrs. Hwang left shortly after she was finished with the vegetables, but not before planting a kiss on her husband and a bashful Jinsol. It was around 7:30 when Mr. Hwang put his tools down, letting out an exhausted sigh while running a hand through his greyed hair. After taking some time to clean his station, he walked over to his personal shelf and picked one of the vintage caps hanging from the wall. 

“I’m gonna get some fresh air,” he said, giving Jinsol a thumbs-up, “hold down the fort.”

“Got it.” 

Jinsol watched as Mr. Hwang left through the service entrance, ambling at his usual pace before slipping into the alley and out of view. 

_I guess they really did need the help._

Turning her attention back to the shop, Jinsol went over their inventory one last time to make sure everything was truly ready. It would be her first time opening the shop on her own, but she was confident that she would be able to manage. She spent the last thirty minutes in silence, wiping their tables down in something of a daze; and finally, at the end of the hour, she flipped the front of house sign to read, _open for business_.

Even if it wasn’t her restaurant, Jinsol thought that it would be nice to have something like this of her own one day. She made a quick plan to finish kitchen inventory while the store was empty, but it ultimately fell through thanks to the front door’s bell sounding off once her back was turned. It wasn’t every day someone came in this early, but she wasn’t the type to complain about a paying customer.

“Morning,” she said, spinning on her heel, “take a seat anywh—oh, it’s just you.”

Her friend of six years, Sooyoung Ha, stood at the door with a smug expression plastered on her face. She sported a simple white blouse and tan blazer paired with light-wash jeans and some casual slip-ons, all of which were probably designer if personal taste was taken into account. 

“Hope you don’t greet other customers like that,” she scoffed, sauntering forward to take a seat at the kitchen pass.

“Don’t be a baby. You know what I meant.”

“I don’t, actually. Please elaborate.” 

Jinsol rolled her eyes. She knew Sooyoung loved to tease, and being away from each other for so long just meant there was more to make up for.

“It’s nice to see you, _Youngie_. I figured you were gonna turn up soon enough.” 

Sooyoung’s face scrunched at her least favorite nickname being used, but she didn’t offer any protests due to it being somewhat deserved. Work had been hectic for the last month, and while she could’ve had the decency to send Jinsol even a small update, it just never happened during that whole time. As such, she was prepared to be held in contempt for crimes against their relationship, and willingly entered the restaurant for her trial. Placing a hand at her nape, Sooyoung took a seat in front of Jinsol, hoping that would be the extent of her wrath.

Naturally, though, Jinsol hadn’t put that much thought into it, and never intended to. While there was no doubt an explanation behind Sooyoung’s disappearance, she wasn’t too interested in learning the finer details of what was going on behind closed doors. She left that life behind a long time ago, after all. 

“Ordering anything? Or are you gonna sit there all broody-like?”

Sooyoung thought about it for a moment, but only for a moment. She didn’t have it in her to turn down a good meal, even if the original intent was to just stop by and let Jinsol know she wasn’t dead, on top of some other business.

“Beef bone soup. Extra meat, please.”

“Coming right up.”

Sooyoung studied Jinsol’s natural movements, impressed at how much the young mother had improved since she started working there—but that much should have been obvious if Mr. Hwang was letting her open shop without supervision. She thought back to the first time she saw Jinsol behind the counter, fumbling around because of the limited space and new environment. That was almost two years ago, when she was still struggling to make something of herself. And to think this journey began because of Yerim.

“How’s the kid?” 

“She’s good. All the teachers love her,” Jinsol replied, busy with preparing the dish, “Missing her auntie Soo, though.”

“Aw, you’re making me blush.”

“Really? I’d be feeling bad.”

Sooyoung clicked her tongue, playing into the half-joke that could’ve been avoided altogether. She could never win against that quick wit, but it seemed like Jinsol already figured out that they were having this conversation for a reason. While Sooyoung thought of a way to breach the real topic, Jinsol decided it would be better to jump straight into it instead.

“It was rough at the start, you know,” Jinsol's voice gradually fell into weak whisper as she grabbed some green onions for garnish, “he was good to me, and even better to Yerim.”

A steaming bowl of soup was placed in front of Sooyoung, who didn’t know what to say despite her initial curiosity. Thanking Jinsol for the meal, she stared into the vapour that rose towards the shop’s low ceiling, letting her eyes trail upwards until she met Jinsol’s gaze. Though, it would be wrong to say that Jinsol was looking at her; those eyes were lost in a dream, far removed from the small restaurant they were in now. “I’m sorry, Sol,” Sooyoung said. Seconds passed before she got a response.

“Thanks.”

As if she had been waiting for permission to eat, Sooyoung took the first sip of her favorite entree. Unfortunately for her, she hadn’t waited long enough for it to cool down. She yelped as her tongue reeled back, scalded, prompting Jinsol to say something.

“It’s hot.”

“No way,” Sooyoung deadpanned. “So, how’s the home deal? Is the family kicking you out?”

“I don’t think so. Jungeun owns the estate now.”

“Jungeun?”

“Yeah, she’s… _was_ a friend, I guess.”

“ _Was? You guess?_ ”

“Listen, we just weren’t on the best terms when she left. That’s it.”

Jinsol started to raise her voice out of annoyance, which was a complete switch from the somber mood she was just absorbed in. Silence followed the little outburst, but more so as a regression back to the norm. If there was one thing that remained constant throughout their six years of knowing each other, it was that they communicated best through actions. While it was interesting to see her get this pissy over some girl from the past, Sooyoung thought better about pursuing the topic any further. If Jungeun was really that important, she would come up in conversation again sooner or later.

Regardless, it was reassuring to know that Jinsol still had a roof above her head, and that it wouldn’t be changing any time in the foreseeable future. That is, if home life didn’t become too much to bear. Yet, Sooyoung doubted that it would ever get to that point, considering how Jinsol was oddly determined when it came to the people she cared about. It just seemed like she hadn’t quite made her mind up about Jungeun yet. Looking down at her soup, Sooyoung saw that steam no longer billowed from the surface. _About time_ , she thought, starting on her first meal of the day. 

Customers trickled in one by one as Sooyoung ate, easing Jinsol into the head chef role she’d been dreaming about for so long. Having gone through it all so many times before, she didn’t have to worry about the fact that Mr. Hwang was still nowhere to be seen, and she almost radiated the same casualness as the man himself. Anyone could see that this was where Jinsol belonged, and nobody could take that away from her.

An hour into service passed before Jinsol heard their back door screech in the distance. It hadn’t gotten too busy, but she came to realize that it took a true professional to do all the work in a small restaurant. The solo show was over, and the pace of her bussing slowed as testament to her relief. Jinsol took a moment to stretch as a reward for toughing the morning out, paying no mind to the customers that might’ve been watching. It was nice, up until the point she was interrupted. 

“Uh, miss, I’m ready to pay.” 

She looked over her shoulder at Sooyoung, who had made herself comfortable by using one of the free stools sitting around as her leg rest, clearly just trying to get a reaction out of Jinsol. The young chef sighed, turning her whole body proper before giving Sooyoung’s feet a light push off the chair. 

“It’s the same total as always.”

“Wow,” Sooyoung said, pulling out the exact number of bills she needed, “I don’t even get a hint?”

“Not when you’ve gotten the same thing every time for three years.” 

Jinsol stuck her tongue out playfully, extending a hand for Sooyoung to pass the cash over to her. The other girl obliged, defeated once more in their battle of wits. 

“Keep the change.”

“Oh my, how generous of you.”

“I try,” Sooyoung flashed a cheeky smile. “Anyways, I have to get going, but I’ll drop by to visit Yerim soon.”

The taller woman threw out a quick salute before facing the door, leaving Jinsol to deal with the money. Ready to spend the rest of her day working on a full stomach, she took a few satisfied steps towards the exit, but nothing more than that thanks to Jinsol’s famously intimidating throat clear. “Aren’t you forgetting something? Stay there.” she said.

Jinsol dropped the cash in her apron and rushed into the kitchen for her purse, passing by Mr. Hwang who had just hung up his hat. Although her urgency had him worried for a moment, he knew that Jinsol would’ve mentioned if something was wrong, and decided that his time would be better spent getting to work than prodding his employee about something that didn’t involve him. She skipped back to the guest area after fishing an envelope from her bag, hoping to pass it on like she needed; its recipient, however, was nowhere to be seen. 

_Damn it._

Jinsol shook her head and marched out the front door, prepared to chase Sooyoung down regardless of how far she’d already gotten. Taking a quick scan of the area, she spotted a familiar haircut and tanned blazer about two blocks away. “Sooyoung!” she yelled, running to her friend.

Sooyoung looked up from her phone, holding back a grimace from her failure to get away in time. Her peaceful walk to work wasn’t going to play out like she wanted, if Jinsol had anything to say about it. “I told you to wait!” The shorter girl stopped to catch her breath. _I need more exercise_ , she thought, disappointed that running two blocks was almost enough to take her out.

“I did. You were slow.” Sooyoung said, trying to pass the blame like any of this was Jinsol’s fault. “I’m busy, you know. Can’t keep a girl waiting forever.”

“I wasn’t even back there for five minutes.”

“You know what they say. Time is like… relative, or something.”

“Stop acting dumb on purpose. God, you do this every time.”

She slapped the envelope against the posh blazer, its thickness carrying enough weight to produce an unwanted thud. Sooyoung took the envelope and placed it into one of her inner lining pockets. 

“Every other time, actually.”

“Whatever.” Jinsol sighed, taking the opportunity to wrap her arms around the other girl’s slim waist. Public displays of affection weren’t her thing, but a point had to be made this time around. She rested a cheek on her friend’s shoulder. “I know you want to help, but we’re doing fine. Just… visit us more, if anything, okay?” Sooyoung's face flushed hot with blood. She was trapped, but it wasn’t like she could do anything about it. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll try.” she mumbled.

“Thanks.”

Jinsol dropped the hug and covered her face in embarrassment, trying not to explode into a red mess for everyone to see; though, it didn’t seem like anyone actually noticed them in the first place. Thankful for the early morning stillness of the streets, Jinsol took a few breaths to calm herself down before meeting Sooyoung’s perplexed gaze. “I’m going back to work. Text me whenever,” she said with a straight face, turning around to walk away with the same nonchalance. 

Although she had good reason to leave, Jinsol was still somewhat worried about what Mr. Hwang had to say about her absence. Coming up on the restaurant soon enough, she saw that it was empty aside from Mr. Hwang at the counter, reading their local newspaper. She could’ve sworn that her time outside with Sooyoung didn’t last too long, but it might’ve just been her luck that everyone decided to finish up once she left. 

Thinking back on all mistakes she’s ever made while working at the restaurant, Jinsol couldn’t remember a time where Mr. Hwang was less than understanding to her situation, but it was also true that she never tried pulling any stunts like leaving in the middle of a shift. She walked through the front door with an apology already prepared, wary of the scolding she believed was all but guaranteed to come.

“Jinsol Jung.” He said, eyes still fixed on the black and white pages in front of him.

“Yes, chef?”

“C’mere.”

Her chest tightened at the command. Was he really that upset? She took up a spot behind the counter and waited for him to finish reading the paper, but not without taking a peek at the content for herself. A quick scan revealed nothing interesting, or so it seemed, until she saw the corner column of obituaries. Looking up, she now understood what had captured his attention. It was a portrait of the late Mr. Kim, alive and well with his timeless vigor. 

“Ah, man, it still doesn’t feel real.” he said, turning to the assistant chef to place a soothing hand on her shoulder. “But I guess you still have it worse, huh?”

The heavy inflection in his voice was new to her, but it wasn’t a complete surprise. Even though there wasn’t much to suggest that he had been too affected by an old acquaintance’s death, Jinsol noticed that his smile had lost some of its usual sparkle. Still, she didn’t say anything in response to the old man—or rather, she didn’t know what she _could_ say. It wasn’t like she was doing much better, after all. Looking to the windows just past his arm, she took in the peaceful morning for all it was; no longer faint and unwelcoming, there was some assurance that life went on, albeit daunting as it was hopeful. 

It must have been the morning dew peppered on the flora all along the front of their shop that set it off, but Jinsol was more than excited for the season to come into full swing, with its subtle promise of better times in an unknowable world like theirs. _If only_ , she thought. 

_If only._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a (relatively) quick update, oh my. i hope everyone's staying safe and doing alright in this virus mess; i know it's hard for some of yall to be at home all the time.
> 
> on a lighter note, i figured i'd get some more chapters in while quarantine is in effect. this means faster and possibly longer updates. progress may or not be affected by how much time i spend on animal crossing (add me please i love visiting other islands)
> 
> if the mood still kinda unclear, i promise it'll be set by the end of next (yeojin's!!!!!) chapter. thanks for your support so far :]
> 
> [cc for prompts/requests/chatting](https://curiouscat.me/commedesgowons) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/commedesgowons)


	4. Opposite of Adults

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hold AWN. BNHA s3 spoiler in the first two paragraphs. Proceed with caution 🙃

Yeojin stabbed her last rissole hard enough to hear the fork bottom out on the other side. “It doesn’t make any sense, y’know?” 

She sighed, waving the loaded utensil around in careless fashion. “Bakugou shouldn’t have won that fight. It’s bullshit. Ridiculous. You’re telling me some sweaty kid beat the combined might of SEVEN different heroes just because he was angry enough? There’s no way.”

There wasn’t any real point to the non-sequitur, but she figured anything was better than letting the conversational lull at their table carry on undisturbed. Lunchtime spent in silence wasn’t really lunchtime, anyways, and to that end, Yeojin turned the fork over to her triangle-lipped friend as if they were in the middle of an interview. _Thoughts, questions, concerns?_ the gesture asked all at once, but mostly to the girl’s annoyance.

“Once again, we have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said, refusing to dance along to Yeojin’s tune. Justified in her disinterest, she hadn’t bothered to look up from her phone all the while.

“Listen, Hyejoo, it’s not my problem that you choose to stay uncultured,” Yeojin retorted, leaning back into the cafeteria seat. “You gotta take life into your own hands at some point. Enlightenment doesn’t come easy.”

“This is exactly why weebs get bullied.”

“Whoa, there. First off, I’m no Weeb. Second, we don’t use slurs at this table. Tell her, Chae.”

“Yeah, no slurs,” the blonde giggled, giving Hyejoo’s shoulder a delicate slap.

 _Oh, to be young and in love,_ Yeojin thought. Her nose scrunched with mild distaste, leading her to use the now-cold meat pastry as an impromptu palette cleanser. There was a limit to how much softness she could take, and her friends were close to breaching it with each passing day. 

Yet, she didn’t have a problem with the fact at all. For her, that was exactly what high school was about. Not homework. Not whatever lame adults worried over. Not the future. Just good times with good friends. And judging from the new idle chatter of Chaewon and Hyejoo’s nondescript flirting, she was doing well to bring that philosophy to life.

The trio continued on with their usual banter until the bell rang, signalling an end to their free time and the reinstatement of a criminally monotonous schedule. Following routine like the good students they were, the girls cleaned up and took a spot in line as everyone filed out through the glass gates of luxury their school called 'doors', still engaged in a pointless argument about the usefulness of buying up toilet paper during a pandemic; which, of course, was fueled by Yeojin playing devil’s advocate for hoarders rights and Hyejoo’s willingness to fall for the bait every time.

Yeojin walked as far as she could with her friends, but it wasn’t too long before they had to part ways because of her being one grade level below them and all. And with that, her only source of entertainment was whisked away by the undulation of a normal school day’s ebb and flow, leaving her to wait for its return once classes were over and done with. 

Slouching, she continued on with a lackadaisical saunter towards her next class located on the other side of their expansive campus. Although there were some advantages to having Noel academy spread out between buildings rather than being lumped into a sprawling network of cramped tunnels, Yeojin wasn’t exactly built to take full advantage of the system as the unfortunate bearer of short legs in a tall world. Even if she wanted to attend class on time, the cards just weren’t in her favor, and she couldn’t really blame anyone else aside from her parents for the undeserved difficulties—to which she did, and plenty of times, at that. 

Regardless, she used the time outside as a nice way to distance herself from the smelly and loud teenagers that made up a large portion of the school’s student body. Despite being a private academy that served a typically wealthy clientele, its attendees made it more than clear that capital didn’t translate well into manners or common decency, as most people might’ve been inclined to believe otherwise.

Yeojin climbed about half-way up the cascading stairs that led to fourth-period history before stopping to rest on the handrail. Most students had already made it to class by now, leaving the few stragglers like her to make the trip in solitude. She couldn’t tell if it was the rissole or the thought of having to memorise more facts about dead white men that was behind the sudden lethargy, but something more visceral told her it was a little bit of both. 

Either way, getting there seemed nothing short of impossible at this point, and every muscle in her body seemed complacent enough to let it be. _I’ll read the chapter later,_ she thought, taking a seat on the stone steps. It was a blatant lie, for sure, but it wasn’t like admitting that now would’ve helped any. 

Leaning back onto the handrail’s support beam, her tired eyelids shut to a sweet sense of peace brought about by a quiet afternoon on the cusp of springtime. She deserved at least this much for her troubles; the school’s poor building placement wasn’t her fault, after all. Caught up in the small tune of a light zephyr travelling through nearby leaves, it took Yeojin a while to notice the familiar voice calling from atop the stairway, too deep and smooth for it to have been anybody but Heejin Jeon, resident dweeb and art club president.

“Yo, Yeojin!” she heard again.

The younger girl threw up deuces in response, opening her eyes to spot Heejin coming down the stairs with a blank canvas tucked beneath her arm, flashing her usual million-dollar smile for the world to see.

“Hey, Pres,” Yeojin said, looking around for the other girl that was sure to follow Heejin’s arrival. “Where’s Hyunjin?” 

A small gust of wind pushed past the fold of her ear not a moment after the question was asked. 

“Right here.” 

_HWA—_

Yeojin jumped straight up from where she sat, crashing into the metal above her hard enough to leave a dent in it, if not her skull. She doubled over on the spot, pressing firm on the hot zone of her nightmares.

“Oh, shit,” Hyunjin said, hopping the rail without a hitch. 

Her victim, on the other hand, continued to writhe on the ground. “Not _just_ shit. More like _shitshitshitshitfuck_.” 

“Fair,” the taller girl replied while rubbing Yeojin’s back, maybe a bit too nonchalantly for what had happened. There was a small hang time before she spoke again. “You okay? I can carry you to the nurse.”

“Hold on.” Nausea? _Nope_. Ringing in the ears? _Nope_. Vertigo? _Nope—_ it wasn’t a concussion, probably. _Thank God,_ Yeojin thought. “I’ll be fine.”

“Seriously? Man, you’re pretty tough for being like a meter tall.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

Taking the backhanded compliment in stride, Yeojin noticed that the initial wave of pain was very, very, slowly fading into a dull throb, leaving behind a sizable welt that would’ve looked better on anyone else but her. Needless to say, if she was looking for a reason to wear her hair up before, she didn’t have much of a choice now. 

“Hyun, I told you it was a bad idea!” Heejin said, her voice thick with worry. She lugged the canvas just a few more steps to where Yeojin was prostrated, forehead going numb from being glued to the stone steps a bit too long. 

“It’s not like I knew she’d hit the bar,” Hyunjin replied, not sounding too convinced of herself.

“That’s not the point.”

“Yeah, bu—”

“I’m fine,” Yeojin interrupted, believing the interruption would be enough to put an end to the mini lover’s quarrel brewing above her. “It’s just a bruise.” _I hope._

Although appreciative of the sentiment, she thought her time would be better spent doing anything other than playing the role of an impromptu marriage counselor. Even if these two didn’t get into fights often, Yeojin always found herself in the mix whether she liked it or not. She just decided to do something about it this time. _Oh, to be young, in love, and oblivious about it_ , Yeojin sighed, shoving herself off the slate after a sharp inhale. 

At first, all she saw were stars; then, she saw Heejin’s kind eyes watching her, wide with concern—and if it had been anyone else other than the ostensibly taken artist, her heart surely would’ve been stolen right then and there. Unfortunately, the experience wasn’t as romantic as it could’ve been thanks to Hyunjin dropping into an asian squat right beside the bespectacled club president.

“See. I told you she’s alright,” the taller girl reassured, laying a hand on her friend’s shoulder.

Heejin didn’t let the touch linger for too long, shrugging it off in a bad temper. “It’s still your fault. Did you apologize at least?”

Hyunjin froze. _Did I?_ Her face seemed to ask, to which Yeojin had to save her once again.

“She did.” _She didn’t, but whatever._

“Good,” Heejin’s shoulders dropped in relief. “What were you doing out here, anyways? Classes just started again.”

“I was skipping. Now I’m dying.”

“And you don’t wanna drop by the nurse’s office?”

“No, she’d kill the vibe.”

“I get what you mean,” Hyunjin said, nodding pensively; though it seemed like the girl beside her wasn’t on the same page quite yet. “Why don’t you hang with us then? We were headed to the club room for rec hour, but we can chill there for the rest of the day.” 

Heejin’s eyebrows shot up at the proposal, but she didn’t say anything to shut it down despite being the most straight-laced kid in the whole group. Chalking it up to guilt, Yeojin considered her two options: have fun, or don’t have fun. A tough decision, for sure. 

“Deal,” she said, reaching out to let Hyunjin pull her up. 

The two girls watched with care as Yeojin stood on her feet for the first time in what seemed like forever, ready to spring into action if their junior so much as wobbled on the spot, their silent but intense encouragement putting an unnecessary amount of pressure on her for something as simple as standing. Seeing that she was, in fact, alright, Hyunjin led the trio with an easy _let’s go_ towards their clubroom. Traveling in the shadow of her seniors, Yeojin took the opportunity to dust herself of whatever dirt still stuck to her forehead and uniform before letting her eyes wander about.

And oh, did they wander, right into an awkward gap between the older Jins. _This is bad,_ she thought. Yeojin couldn’t remember the last time she saw the two walking around without holding hands, let alone being unstuck from the hip for more than a minute at a time; and given how close Heejin was to walking over the sidewalk’s decorative shrubbery, Yeojin didn’t have to look past the starry-eyed artist herself to know who caused the split. 

The girl wasn’t vindictive by any means, but she also wasn’t the type to forgive without reason. Passionate, kind, and talented, Heejin was a renaissance woman that could’ve given Michelangelo a run for his money—but above all that she was stubborn, with a strong moral compass to boot, and it didn’t look like she was ready to pardon Hyunjin for ignoring her advice yet. 

The distance was almost too much to bear, but understandable all the same. Hyunjin wasn’t the type to listen or think about her actions before jumping into the thick of things and, all things considered, it was honestly a modern miracle that she hadn’t managed to drive Heejin away before.

Yet, as mismatched as they seemed to be, there was a youthful charm about their dynamic that they couldn’t deny; one that even Yeojin envied, as unwilling as she was to let anyone else know. Which was why she latched onto their free arms instead, hoping to be their much-needed bridge until they reached the clubroom. Words weren’t her forte, but there were more creative ways to get a point across.

“Were you always this clingy?” Heejin asked as she readjusted the grip on her canvas, feigning annoyance at being dragged around by someone a whole head shorter than her.

“Nope,” Yeojin smiled, “but things can change. We’re still kids, y’know.” 

_We’re still kids._ Youth should’ve been dedicated to fun and friends, and here she was lacking both out of nothing more than pettiness for wanting to be right. The reminder echoed in Heejin’s mind, whittling away her irritation towards Hyunjin bit by bit.

“I guess,” she mumbled, stealing a quick glance at her best friend who, to her disappointment, didn’t seem all too bothered by the deliberate separation. “How’s the head?” 

“Peachy. Nothing a nap won’t fix,” she lied. It hurt like hell.

“Knocking out when we get inside?”

“You know it.”

Heejin only hummed in acknowledgement before moving deeper into Yeojin’s hold, happy to have met such a cute and caring junior in her last year of high school. It would’ve been even better if Yeojin was actually interested in art, but that was just wishful thinking; she couldn’t have everything the way she wanted it, and it was probably for the best. Kicking pebbles up all along the path, they came up on the art department’s entrance with a good amount of the hour left to spare. 

A silent rejoice rang at the back of everyone’s head as the stone beneath their feet turned to vinyl tile, and then to the familiar sealed concrete of their clubroom. Heejin was the first to break away from the others to unburden herself of the canvas she carried; then, it was Yeojin on her way to the couch, but she didn’t make it far before feeling a tug at her skirt from the girl who’d been oddly quiet since their little mishap.

“Hold on a sec,” Hyunjin said, waiting for the shorter girl to turn around before starting again. “I just wanted to say thanks. And sorry. About the almost-concussion.”

Her sentiments came out in a hushed whisper, thoughtful and somber-like. Yeojin blinked. This wasn’t the carefree, larger-than-life Hyunjin she knew. Was the fight really that bad for her?

“No problem, boss,” she replied. ”We all have our days.”

A moment of silence followed. “Right,” the older girl nodded, walking off to her usual spot beside Heejin soon after. Yeojin’s head tilted as she watched them interact like normal, barring the anxiousness that had Hyunjin looking more like a sad puppy. _That was kinda cool,_ she thought before setting off on her own course. _wonder if there’s anything else I haven’t seen yet._

One, two, three; two steps and a jump was all it took for Yeojin to find a spot on the couch. She relaxed face-down into one of the many crocheted pillows made by Heejin, mindful of the injury that throbbed with every breath. Although she would’ve preferred an actual bed, it wasn’t in her to take things for granted; the couch was always there when she needed it, and that was good enough for her. 

She flattened herself further on the cushions, letting heavy eyelids fall while her consciousness ran to the edges of nothing, vague wishes of peace and recovery trailing closely behind. Sinking, the last thing Yeojin heard was Heejin’s sweet laugh piercing the air, no doubt thanks to another out of pocket joke from Hyunjin. 

The girls would be alright. They always were.

* * *

Was there a sound worse than metal screeching against concrete? Yeojin didn’t know, but that was the first thing on her mind once she came to. Regaining awareness as a groggy mess and a half, she rolled onto her side to face wherever the god-awful noise had come from, groaning while lazy resentment swelled up within her like bread in the oven.

“Whyyyyyy,” she whined, making sure to drag it out for emphasis. Her plight would be known to all, and especially so to the person who woke her up. 

“Hm? Oh,” Heejin’s voice filled the otherwise quiet room, ”sleep well?”

Forcing an eye open, Yeojin found her senior sitting with an easel pointed towards the couch about a meter away, seemingly oblivious to what woke her up. “A little bit, yeah,” she had some trouble speaking with a dry mouth. “practicing still-frames?”

“No, portraits.”

The younger girl looked around, even going as far as to check behind the couch for a hiding Hyunjin. “Nobody’s here, though.” 

“You are.”

“Oh,” Yeojin said, now understanding the reason behind Heejin’s laser focus. She dropped back onto the pillows, using a cheek to take in all the comfort as her alleged personal artist brushed away.

Taken by drowsiness, she was hard pressed to find anything else worth saying to the girl. The fact led them into silence that, maybe for the first time in her life, Yeojin didn’t feel obligated to crush. She was content to witness Heejin’s artistry in full-force, eyes bouncing back and forth between subject and canvas like it was the most natural thing in the world. They sat together for what seemed like half an hour before Heejin spoke up to break the breathtaking illusion she’d effortlessly created. 

“Dream anything?” she said, weaving words between strokes.

The question was odd, but it didn’t take Yeojin by surprise; the art club president was a creative type, after all. She took a moment to mull it over before giving an honest response. 

“I don’t dream,” she said plainly.

“Huh.” _There it was._

“Or if I do, I don’t remember them.”

“That… kinda sucks,” Heejin replied, but to Yeojin’s astonishment, it didn’t carry the usual pity most people would’ve given after finding out about her condition, if it could even be called that.

“Can’t miss what I never had.”

The quiet was quick to reclaim its place between them, fueled more by Yeojin’s desire to be a good subject rather than awkwardness. She wasn’t an artist herself, but she knew the value of someone’s time and effort. What mystified her the most was what it all meant.

“Hey Pres,” she started, unsure of how the rest of her sentence would go. “Weird question but, why do you paint?”

Heejin stopped to ponder. “Depends. Sometimes it’s because people tell me to. Sometimes it’s because I tell myself to,” she twirled the brush in her hand, “but most of the time it’s because I know nobody else will make what I want to see. It’s like chasing a dream, except it seems out of reach for everyone but me, and it feels wrong not to try.”

There was a pause. “Sounds like effort.”

“Yeah. But it’s all I have.” 

_I wouldn’t say that_ , Yeojin thought, slighted that she wasn’t on Heejin’s immediate list of Things to Care About. Yet, she couldn’t fault an _artist_ of all people for thinking like that, and instead of holding onto a useless grudge, Yeojin decided it’d be better to take the comment with a grain of salt. What Heejin didn’t know was that she’d proven herself wrong before, with today’s events adding to the grand tally.

The younger girl sighed. People were too much, sometimes. Looking for a distraction, she fished a cellphone from her pocket to check the hour. Her eyes widened as she read the screen. It was close to 3PM, which meant there were about thirty minutes of classes left for the day. Although sleeping through two classes was satisfactory in itself, she wasn’t looking forward to the hours of self-study she’d have to replace it with. And to think this all happened because of an innocent prank-turned-accident. 

Speaking of _,_ “Where’s Hyun—” Yeojin got cut off by the sound of their studio door springing open to reveal the girl in question holding up two white plastic bags in triumph, followed by two students who should’ve been attending lecture.

“Delivery has arrived.” Hyunjin puffed out her chest as she entered the room with her typical gusto, betraying the image she’d shown Yeojin hours before. “And I picked up a couple of cuties on the way.”

“Yo, heard you got spooked pretty bad,” Hyejoo smirked while Chaewon waved from her side, arms linked together as per usual.

Yeojin rolled her eyes. “And you came all the way for a visit? How sweet. Watch out Chae, I think she’s into me.”

Chaewon laughed and tightened her hold on Hyejoo, who was busy faking a gag.

“Anyways, Hyun, you should have told me if you were getting food,“ Yeojin started, spying the Panda Express logo, “now I’m hungry too.”

“Bold of you to assume we didn’t get you anything,” Heejin said, finally taking a siesta from her op. She started moving stools closer to where everyone was, giving Hyunjin a center spot to unwrap the bags. 

“We?”

“It was Hyunjin’s idea,” Hyejoo defended.

“Aww...” The youngest girl placed a hand on her heart as she cooed, trying her best to mimic the baby-eyed emoji that infested their group chat.

The senior simply waved it off as something minor before lifting the lid to release a masterpiece of aromatic wonder into the air. “Take a seat, ladies. We’re doing this family-style.” 

Yeojin obliged to the request alongside her friends, taking a moment to check the time once again. _3:10PM_ flashed on the screen, and that’s when it clicked. _I still have to pick up Yerim._ The realization came with an immediate facepalm, drawing everyone’s undivided attention. Maybe the bar really did knock a few screws loose.

“What’s wrong?” Heejin asked with her chopsticks suspended above her favorite Beijing Chicken. Yeojin’s lips pursed into a line as she tried to find the right words, but it didn’t stay that way for long. 

“Nothing. Let’s eat.” _Sorry squirt, but you’re gonna have to wait a few more minutes than usual._

But that was fine, right? The elementary school wasn’t too far from Noel, and she’d just have to run to make up for the time. Finally taking a stool, there was only one matter left to settle before digging in. Busting open a chopstick packet for herself, she asked a very important question.

“Do we have any plates?”

Raised eyebrows, tongues in cheeks, and stray gazes told her all she needed to know.

“Fuck it,” Yeojin said, waving her chopsticks for attention, “first two people to drop something have to clean up at the end.”

A collective groan followed, but no objections were raised. Nodding at their concession, the youngest leaned forward to claim her reward for the day. Taking a honey-glazed shrimp from the pile, her mouth opened wide in anticipation for the only dish she really cared about from the fast-food chain, grateful that such a potent panacea existed in a world like theirs. 

But salvation never came. Her chopsticks crossed inwards just as the morsel of food brushed against her lips to send it, and her sanity, spiraling downwards and onto her freshly washed cardigan. No thoughts, head empty, she heard Hyejoo let out an amused snort.

_God, I wish I wore my running shoes._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY SO, WALL OF TEXT
> 
> so we went from anime and philosophy to What Is the Meaning of Art and Dreaming to panda express a la carte in just a few hours of yeojin's life. sounds like high school, alright.  
> this chapter was really fun to write. i think my favorite part of writing this whole thing was trying to draw parallels between heejin and yeojin because its just sooo important to know where they're coming from, with yeojin being all about the flow and vibe while heejin's head is just stuck in the clouds 24/7 because PASSION. and idk if this is relatable, but i really enjoyed having deep conversations out of nowhere with my friends to just switch onto a different topic without a fuss. they were probably the most influential talks i've ever had despite their randomness, and i kinda wanted to have yeojin go through that as well. the girls will be growing!!!
> 
> i was excited for this chapter because it was yeojin's, but 2jin also somehow managed to steal my heart. they were cute and dynamic when i first outlined them, but i think i'm really going to enjoy telling their story. hyunjin in particular moved up in my lives, but that's because i made a few tweaks in her storyline/background that you don't know about yet ahaha. idk what to say about heejin aside from she is my Baby and you'll be seeing that soon.
> 
> but tell me, did you notice the change in style for this chapter? 
> 
> i tried pretty hard to make it more fun and witty than the others to properly characterise the girls, but i dont know if it was obvious enough to see without reading too deep into it. even if it didn't jump out at you, don't worry because it a test run and i had a blast anyway. it's always nice to your thoughts though, and i will definitely do a better job at replying now (anyone that came before i'm so sorry this is my first chaptered fic). i just wanna make these characters feel special to you like they are to me 
> 
> side note: i realized that i have a lot of thoughts after writing a chapter and that i've never really expressed them anywhere, so i think i'll start doing that here as it was probably intended (lmao). 
> 
> also, [i have a cc now for prompts/requests](https://curiouscat.me/commedesgowons).  
> again, thank you all for reading, and let me know what you're thinking. if you want :]


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